Iktome Plains auxesia

Had it been so long that he no longer recalled words? Her voice was soft, not the strength of the bronze statue he had thought her to be. It was a gentle thing, her vocal chords more akin to the strings of a harp. He might have lulled himself to sleep between her and the sea if he had not realized he understood her second set of words.

He should have felt worried — stranger to stranger — for the way she examined him.

He was too tired for an extra set of concern over things in his life.

Athens, A hollowed out kind of voice. One that might have sounded whimsical if not for the exhaustion that clung to him like a film. One that said there might have been something there before, that it could return one day too.

Melinoë, where are you headed?

It would not be fair to ask her where she was from if it was not a question he wanted to answer himself.